


Baby Makes Three

by Diary



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: Adoption, Baby Dwarves, Bechdel Test Fail, Conversations, Established Boddony/Gunilla Goodmountain, Established Relationship, Established Sacharissa Cripslock/William de Worde, Family, Friendship, Gen, Late Night Conversations, Other, POV Male Character, POV William de Worde, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 09:10:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6000271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diary/pseuds/Diary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>William reflects on Gunilla and Boddony's relationship. Complete.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baby Makes Three

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own any of Terry Pratchett's work or Discworld.

William wonders if he’s ever going to find an answer.

Years ago, he saw no contradiction between what he wrote and any debate there is to be had over privacy.

He’ll admit, he should have thought of such things back then.

Now, he’s been on possibly every side of the issue, and he’s still no closer to knowing how, when the chips are absolutely down, he stands. 

Even the ‘well, generally, it should be this way, but there have to be exceptions’ is hard to cling to.

Sighing, he tells himself to save such ponderings for when faced with an actual ethical/legal issue.

The thing is, everyone knows Gunilla and Boddony sleep in the same bed at night and possibly do more in said bed.

Everyone also knows Gunilla and Boddony are going to get married any day now. They’re all saved up, they’ll stick with the press rather than opening a mine, and if any children come along- well, when Gowdie blurted out a baby would soon be coming out, Boddony had grumbled about lack of proper warning and promptly made a beautiful, incredibly safe, and comfortable cradle[1].

Everyone knows this, but everyone has known this for years, and there’s still yet to be a wedding, or even just an announcement of, ‘We’re married now, lads and Miss. Either sleep elsewhere for the night or don’t complain about the noise and if the bed breaks.’

Part of him wonders if they just decided to forgo the announcement, but part of him thinks there’s a Reason, and while and because he considers them friends, he isn’t sure if he should try to approach the subject or just ignore it.

Normally, he’d talk about this with Sacharissa or Otto or both, but they’re both on assignment in Überwald, and he doesn’t feel comfortable writing about or sending a clack on the subject.

“Oh,” a familiar voice announces, “knows that look, I do. Bloody humans and your relationship troubles. Did you try giving her a-”

“Hello, Gaspode.” He looks down. “Where’s Foul Ole Ron?”

“What, you think we’re joined at the hip? Nah. He don’t always need me, y’know, and I occasionally like some times to meself, yeah? Now, how’s about youse give me some of that sweetie in your pocket and tells ole Gaspode all ‘bout how you mucked things up with your-”

“Sacharissa and I aren’t have any problems,” he firmly declares.

However, he does give the sweet to Gaspode.

His voice muffled, Gaspode responds, “No? Then, what’s with the smell, huh? You ain’t no different from any other human or even a certain werewolf.”

Before he can stop himself, he asks, “What about dwarves?”

“Meaning Cap’n Carrot or actual dwarves,” is the wary reply.

“Never mind,” he quickly says.

“No, go ahead,” Gaspode urges. “Ain’t close to any of ‘em, you know that. Always ‘fraid I’ll end up with liquid-y rat. What’s on your mind?”

“No," he insists.

Gaspode sighs. “Well, who’s else have you got to talk to?”

“I can wait until-”

“So, it’s about dwarf relationships, is it,” Gaspode barrels on. “Usually more sensible than humans, I’ll say. You lot, always caring about these stupid things. Now, dogs, they gen’rly-”

“I don’t want to know!"

If a noise could convey a shrug, Gaspode just made it. “Suit yourself.”

William thinks this is the end of it until he realises Gaspode is patiently waiting.

Gaspode, William’s learned, has a surprising knack for patience when he truly puts his mind to it.

“Alright,” he says. “Look. I’m not saying it’s about Gunilla and Boddony-”

“Oh, them. Shoulda just said. See, they’re both like me and you, and normally, this ain’t a problem for dwarves, most of them just marry the person they love, don’t matter what either of them is, so long as each person is, in fact, a dwarf.”

“Yes, I know,” William says.

“But, I imagine, sometimes, it actually is a problem,” Gaspode continues. “Everyone knows how much one of them loves little Albie. Pro’bly be her other parent if’n the other wasn’t around. But he is. So, one of them, he ain’t going to get married until they can adopt. Or, you weren’t about when this happened, he suggested the other might find a dwarf who he could haves babies with. The other didn’t take it well.”

William can’t be certain, but he imagines Gunilla was the one who suggested Boddony could find a female.

He considers asking why Gaspode has never done anything with this information and shudders at the sarcasm he know he’d receive.

“Are you absolutely sure?”

“Positive. Shame, really. I don’t care, mind you, I honestly don’t, okay? It’s just- well, you can see love, can’t ya? After you got to know them, I mean really know them, not just, hey, we’re working together, hah, but after, you can see it, right?”

“Yeah,” he answers. “Unfortunately, that was all I could see.”

“Don’t start,” Gaspode warns. “You ain’t supposed to discover all secrets, paper boy. The unfortunate thing is, _they’re_ the ones who isn’t seeing it clearly enough.”

…

William used to be sceptical of all he heard about Corporal Carrot.

Having long gotten over said scepticism, he’s unsurprised to find himself sitting in Acting Commander Carrot’s office and drinking tea. “Thank you for agreeing to see me.”

“Of course, Mr de Worde,” is the warm reply. “I’m always happy to talk about dwarf culture.”

“Right,” he says. “You do understand, though, that this is unlikely to end up in The Times? This is more personal curiosity than anything.”

“Wonderful! That means I can speak even more freely, not having to worry about accidentally reflecting badly on the watch,” Carrot says with an encouraging smile.

He nods. “Um, I understand you’re adopted. Could you tell me a little bit about adoption when it comes to dwarves? I’ve noticed there are hardly ever any dwarves in the city orphanage.”

Carrot happily nods. “Blood almost always takes in blood. Often, babies grow up knowing their caretakers as their parents, although, they’re often told of any other parents when they’re at an appropriate age. Older dwarves usually know them as grandparents, uncles, brothers, or what-have-you. In my case, generally, humans aren’t adopted by dwarves. If a young one is found, he or she is sent to the nearest human-populated city. In my case…”

When Carrot is done, William gloomily reflects he’s going to have to admit Sacharissa’s adherence to the theory Carrot is heir to the Ankh-Morpork throne is less foolish than he’s always teased her about.

Nodding, William says, “This is where things get- delicate. Say two dwarves marry but, for whatever reason, can’t create a baby together. However, they still want a baby. What are their options?”

Giving him a thoughtful look, Carrot considers the question. “It depends. Sometimes, if one of them is- that is, if one of them is capable of carrying a baby, they might agree that that one should- it’s one of those things where others would call it adultery, but perhaps, in that instance, it’s too harsh a word.”

“Okay,” he says, “but what if neither of them is capable of carrying a baby?”

Carrot looks almost pathetically relieved at being able to slightly change the subject. “Sometimes, these things just happen. It’s all down to nature, no one’s fault. They could ask around, maybe write to relatives or even take out an advertisement in a paper such as The Times, Mr de Worde. And if there’s a young dwarf or, sometimes, even an older one with no known relatives or relatives that believe the couple could provide a better family than they could, then, often, it’s not much trouble for the couple to become parents.”

It would be in this instance, William knows. He’s not even supposed to know about Gunilla and Boddony’s issue, and though he knows neither of them would physically attack him, there are others things they could do if he tried to involve himself.

Gunilla’s being an idiot, and Boddony is, at least, guilty of putting up with idiocy, and William can’t be sure Boddony isn’t guilty of being an idiot, too.

“Thank you, Acting Commander Carrot. This has been very interesting.”

Giving him a warm handshake, Carrot tells him, “Anytime, Mr de Word. Excepting when I’m on-duty or otherwise involved in important personal matters, of course.”

…

He decides to talk to Sacharissa and maybe Otto when they get back, but three days after his conversation with Carrot, Carrot shows up.

“Hello, Mr de Worde,” he cheerfully greets. “I was wondering if Boddony was around.”

“Getting lunch,” Gunilla answers. “Brought one along this time, have you?”

Looking up from the paper he’s editing, William sees there’s a pushcart in front of Carrot.

After Boddony made the second cradle for little Albie, he somehow ended up being volunteered to make furniture for the city’s orphanage. He grumbles about it, but the last time another dwarf tried to take over, half the members of the press ended up cramped in three jail cells for a long weekend.  

“Yes, poor little fellow isn’t doing well at adjusting. I thought Boddony would have an easier time measuring him here.”

Getting up, William peers inside and feels a twist in his heart.

The biggest dwarf baby is almost always tiny compared to the smallest human baby, but this one- it gives the impression of being dwarfed (it would only be a pun if Sacharissa were around) by the pushcart. Moreover, he’s so skinny William can literally see the bones through the thin skin.

“What happened?” Gunilla speaks softly and gently traces the baby’s cheek with his finger.

“The mother had some problems,” Carrot says, and William gets the feeling he’s being extremely careful with his word choices. “Never had a home herself, the one who- no one knows who or where he is, and this one had two more months, but when she- he was cut out.”

“Poor lad. I suppose him being sent to one of the nearby colonies isn’t an option right now?”

“No. To be honest, I was a little afraid to bring him here, but Lady Sybil assured me that this weather was good for babies to be out in.”

The door slams open. “Alright, I finally got-”

“There’s a baby here,” Gunilla quickly tells Boddony.

“A- Oh.” Setting the food down, he hurries over. “Oh, look at this tough lad. Small, too skinny by a half, but you’re still alive, aren’t you? That means you’ve got a proper dwarf spirit. Orphan, is he?”

Carrot nods.

By the time Gunilla has filled him in, Boddony has sat down with the baby and coaxed a tiny bit of rat soup heavily mixed with milk into him. “Yes, that’s right. If parents don’t find you soon, brave boy, you and little Albie will be good friends. That’s it, get plenty of sleep. And when you wake up, you’ll be in a cradle you can grow into.”

William and Carrot eat while Gunilla and Boddony measure the baby and debate the cradle.

“But we both slept in wood,” Gunilla reasonably points out.

“What does that matter? You cried until your brother put you in the well, and I cried whenever I didn’t get five minutes of my grandmother singing. A boy like him needs a proper iron cradle.” He looks at Carrot. “Does he have a name, yet?”

“No.”

“Well,” Boddony declares a bit peevishly, “he needs one, soon, so I can make the letters. It’s important for babies to look up and see their names dangling above them, especially dwarves.”

“You knew your name well enough without them, and I would have, if not for my brother,” Gunilla says.

Boddony gives Gunilla a disgruntled look but doesn’t shake off the fingers absently tracing his free hand. “Yes, and look how we turned out. This boy, though, he needs the absolute best. Just you wait, he and little Albie are going to put us sorry lot to shame when they’re all grown.”

Gunilla smiles. “I’ll start sending clacks. If we’re going to get this done by the time he wakes up, we’re going to need significantly more help. Ah, Acting Commander Carrot, if you need to be somewhere, feel free to leave the baby here for a few hours. If not, start sorting the mail. William…”

There’s no room for argument in his tone, and William supposes it’s good but not particularly surprising when Carrot gives absolutely none and starts sorting the mail.

…

By the time the cradle has been made and a dwarfish word roughly translating to ‘beloved son’ or ‘precious boy’ is dangling from it, a suspicion regarding Carrot has settled into William.

“The cradle needs to be transported in daylight due to the regulations involving-”

Boddony crosses his arms. “After all this work, he’s sleeping in it!”

“Well, perhaps, it would be okay for him to stay-”

“He’ll never get used to the orphanage,” Boddony points out in exasperation. “Listen, it’s a stupid rule, and we can help you take the cradle.”

“We can,” Gunilla agrees. “Although, maybe it’d be better if he did stay for the night. That way, we can make sure no further adjustments need to be made.”

Whether Gunilla has any such suspicions or not, however, he can’t tell.

…

A few days after the baby arrives, William is putting the press to bed when Gunilla stumbles out in his nightshirt and gives a big yawn.

“Need any help?”

“Tell Miss Sacharissa and Otto to come back fast,” Gunilla orders. “My son’s name is Bravemountain, and he needs his parents to be properly married as soon as possible. Oh, and if that vampire uses dark light on him, he’ll never be able to put himself back together again.”

William smiles. “Congratulations.”

Gunilla nods. “Boddony and I were talking about it, and-” Somewhat shyly, he inquires, “How’d you like to be godfather?”

“I’d be honoured.”

He knows, eventually, changing duty will fall on him, and he’s relieved to realise to the potential implications aren’t sending him into a mental panic. Whatever is under Bravemountain’s nappy, he’s William’s godson. In the future, if it turns out Bravemountain is actually his goddaughter, he knows she can’t go wrong with Sacharissa as her godmother.   

...

[1] Unfortunately, little Albie’s non-dwarf side made her an ill-fit for it, but Boddony had simply made another one and shipped the first back to his parents with instructions to give it to whomever in the family next had a newborn dwarf.


End file.
